


their little dragon

by birdseeker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdseeker/pseuds/birdseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece to 'here, once again'. She counts the years and slowly lets go. He secretly wonders how it would've been if he was never gone. "Do you miss him?" She would never hesitate to answer, "I always do." And under his breath, he says, "Me too." D/Hr</p>
            </blockquote>





	their little dragon

**Author's Note:**

> mostly a companion fic to 'here, once again' so if this doesn’t make any sense to you, maybe reading that first would make everything clearer. this just sheds more light on the hows and whys from the previous one-shot.
> 
> yoo, thank you for clicking on this story and if you have read here, once again, more thank yous for you!
> 
> scorpius is fun to write. might make a series of drabbles??
> 
> warnings: not in a chronological order and language.
> 
> here you go and enjoy!
> 
> disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

_“A curse,” he said, “What killed him. An unbreakable curse.”_

_He started as if it was a fairytale- a dark, twisted one at that._

_“But why?” Her question was merely hesitant whisper yet it still reached him, too deeply, and cracked his heart._

_No, he wouldn’t show weakness._

_Not here. Not now._

_“Death Eaters despise blood traitors and Mudbloods.” He converted his despair to anger instead and spat his answer, viciously, that it made the others flinch. Visibly. There was an  
air of eerie calm around the boy but the venom and sharp tinge of animosity in his words proved otherwise._

_He hates-_ hates _\- those the vile words from the deepest, darkest corners of his soul._

_“They’re gone though, right?” It is her again, always asking, always concerned. Rose had been a worrywart for the longest of times. At least, she was asking of their demise. That made him feel better, to some extent._

_“Yes. Yes they are.” He sighed in what awfully seemed like relief._  
\---

His mother is brave and she is strong. She is kind and she is beautiful. She is sweet as she is wise.

But now he knows that no matter what, humans will still be humans.

(Magical or otherwise.)

He caught her, once, crying in the attic with an old, dusty book clenched tightly against her chest. Her sobs were ringing in his ears and the mere image of her there, bent over, frail, trembling and gods, _crying_ made his head howl in desperation- _wrong, wrong, wrong_.

His mother never cried.

Even when they visited his father’s grave, he would notice the way her eyes would turn glassy, puffy and red, but not a single tear would be shed. Her cheerful demeanor would always win in the end, after all. She always reasoned that his father didn’t need the gloom and wanted smiles- _happiness_ \- on their faces.

Scorpius was seven years old and he was at lost on what to do.

His heart jumped to his throat when he saw her weeping _like she had never done before_. A whimper managed to force him out of his overwhelming, consuming anxiousness and he scrambled, as fast as his short legs could, to her.

_“Mum! Mum, what’s wrong? Mum?”_

She looked at him.

She cried harder.

And his panic grew.

Before he could spill his own tears in distress, joining his mother on the floor, she choked out a broken sob.

_“I’m sorry.”_

And suddenly, the glass jar that she had so very carefully kept away broke into a million pieces, the contents splashing and splattering everywhere. She chanted apologies like a hopeless prayer- _“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really am...”_ \- as he stood there, utterly confused, bewildered, concerned. He knew she had done nothing _wrong_ to him- it was usually the opposite, had always been. Then why was she apologizing? What was she apologizing for? 

His questions were answered mere moments later.

_“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”_

(Who, Mum? Who were they for?)  
\---

He would search for the same book many years after, noticing that it was textbook of sorts.

A history textbook filled with silly notes and written jokes with two different handwritings. One was elegant and feminine with thin loops on the ‘y’s, ‘j’s, ‘g’s that he found he quite liked, the other was smooth and somehow aristocratic but some were curiously scrawled as if in great hurry. 

Realization dawned on him and he was sure right then was his parents’ scribbles, though more than likely his mother’s book. He could even picture them soundlessly laughing at each other, class silent and others giving them odd looks as they noticed their trembling shoulders from their suppressed guffaws.

There was a photograph pasted behind, on the last page. It was a Muggle photograph, surprisingly, of a young Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. 

Though their ties told them they were supposed to be on the opposite sides, she was smiling with the very same textbook in her hand and he was smirking, though not maliciously but more teasing, his eyes softer around the edges, posture relaxed.

Scorpius could understand, then, why his mother had cried even when the book was filled with happy memories.

It is because it was a piece of _their_ happy memories, one of long ago.

(No, Mum. It’s not your fault.)  
\---

 _“Look, many of them wants- no,_ craves _revenge and is trying to take as many people as they could down with them. Especially people deeply involved in the war themselves. And you’ll be one of their main targets-“_

_“I completely refuse to-“_

_“Listen to me! Please- please understand. This is for Scorpius and you and me. You’re a Muggleborn and I am a blood traitor. He may as well be the first on their list and I want you both- us safe, please.”_

_You’re my only family left, went unsaid._

_She could only sigh, relenting to his insistent pleads._

_“Then what do you suggest we do?”_

_“Plan. Make one with Potter, Weasley and others. Lay low? Catch them? I prefer the former for you, if only for a while. I’ll assist them. Scorp would need to, at least, have his mother with him.”_

_“Alright, Draco, I understand… For Scorpius. But I’ll be helping too. I’ll find a way.”_

_He smiled._

_“I’m sure you will, brightest witch of her age, after all and thank you, Hermione.”_  
\---

“Is it nice having siblings, Al?”

His friend stopped in his tracks and turned to him, green eyes glittering with strange curiosity.

“I suppose it’s alright. They can be annoying though. Lily whines a lot and James takes his jokes too far sometimes.” After several moments of silence, Al faced him again and he took note that there was something other than interest on his features. “What brought this on exactly?”

“Nothing. I’m just… wondering.”

“Hm,” was his only reply for a while until, “Sisters are irritating and mothers you a lot. I really don’t think I need more than one mother.” He thought that he had imagined the sigh in his voice.

“Oh, yeah. Having two of my Mum scolding me will be a nightmare.” He shivered at the thought. “Especially when they both will be dragging me by the ear. The horror!”

“I agree. I just hope Lily won’t be doing that any time soon.”

Just then, they walked pass James berated by Lily, her face as flaming red as her hair, and the scene gathered a few other students who watched and snickered at James’ misfortune.

For a long time, they only stared.

“I think otherwise, Al. It’ll be ear-pulling soon. You’ll see.”

Albus could only groan in response.  
\---

They all say that it was a noble yet unexpected sacrifice, almost impossible to comprehend.

They all say that Draco Malfoy had sacrificed his life so that his wife and one year old child could flee from several unapprehended, savage Death Eaters.

(Nobody had expected a _Malfoy_ to marry a Muggleborn _or_ be willing to defend her and their son with his life on the line. Much less _the_ Draco Malfoy. He was only supposed to be an arrogant coward, right?)

It was too uncannily similar to how Harry Potter’s parents had died that when the war hero himself heard, it had sent shivers down his spine.

There was a difference, however, in that the wife and child both escaped to safety while the husband, stayed behind, successfully stalling the pursuers, ensuring the safety of his family. 

Miraculously, he survived. 

But not for long.

Draco Malfoy died from the unbreakable, vicious curse cast by the one of the vengeful fugitives five months later.  
\---

His mother had proudly stated that he had a Gryffindor side, just that it was less obvious than his Slytherin’s.

How right she was.

“Your mother’s Mudblood trash! And your father, pathetic he is, seduced by the hag! Serves him right that he-“

Scorpius had punched him. Twice. In the face.

(There was a crack when he did it the second time and it pleased him immensely.)

He did it despite the prick being years older than he was. He never regretted his actions and took his detention willingly, cheerfully even.

The git got what he deserved.

Whenever the bastard would dare meet his eyes, he would flinch and scamper away, which would leave Scorpius chuckling in dark satisfaction and Albus would laugh without restraint, clutching his sides.

“One broken nose and he shuts up. What a coward. Better spread the _effective_ way of repelling pesky snakes to the Gryffins eh?”

“James will make sure of it.”

“By morning?”

“By morning.” Al nodded, the mirth in his voice not quite gone yet.

He was glad his best friend has such an _influential_ brother in the lion’s den.

Next morning will be interesting indeed.  
\---

_“You know what he said before I went, Harry?”_

_He said nothing, but he gave her a look, a silent urging for her to continue._

_“He said-” She released a shuddering breath. “He said to take care of Scorpius for him. It’s- It’s as if he knows he’s not coming back.”_

_There was no response. He didn’t know what to say._

_And he saw the storm raging in her eyes._

_“He’s such- such a selfish prat.” Her voice, suddenly, was rising in volume and intensity. “I can’t believe I trusted him to be alright. I should’ve never listened. There was this horrible feeling in my stomach when I disapparated away. If only I doubted him more but I-“_

_For the first time, he spoke, “You trusted him. Implicitly. You believed in him. You had faith.”_

_She stared at him, in what he assumed was astonishment, before turning away._

_“I don’t know how one person could be so selfish yet so selfless, Harry. Could’ve been a bloody Gryffindor.”_

_A small, brief, humourless laugh and shortly after, it grew quiet once again._

_“Yes. I did.” She answered, wistfully. “Faith gave me patience to help him, wait for him to open his eyes and then, it gave us this. Marriage, commitment.” Her smile wasn’t how it was in the past- free, joyful- but it gave a spark to her previously dead, hollow eyes as she glanced at the simple, diamond ring on her finger. “There was so much happiness every day even if we bickered more than once and we have a lovely baby boy together but-“_

_The upturn of her pale, chapped lips melted away._

_“My faith also brought him his death.”_

_They stood still, unmoving, both lost in thought._

_“If you had stayed,” Harry began, slowly, tentatively, “you would’ve died and Scorpius would too. All three of you would’ve died and I don’t think that’s what he would’ve wanted.”_

_Harry knows. Because if it was him, he would’ve done the same._

_Because it was better to be just him than all three._

_Hermione didn’t reply for a long time._

_“What exactly,” He was sure he heard the hitch in her voice, “do you do when the one you love most goes away, never to come back? It hurts. It hurts so much. Like someone had ripped something out of my chest and there’s a gap there that I can’t fill. What- what do I do?”_

_He carefully, gently pulled her close to his chest and rubbed soothing circles on her back, attempting to comfort her. He knew it wouldn’t quite work but he hoped they were enough to show his sincerity, that he was there for her when she needed him. Just like how she was always there when he needed her._

_“I don’t know, Hermione, I’m sorry. But you’re strong. You can do it. For your son, Hermione. Remember, your son needs you. And I’m sure everyone will have your back because I will. Don’t worry.”_

_He felt the almost imperceptible nod against his chest._

_It was a tiny step but a step nonetheless._  
\---

People said that he grew up to be quite the talented artist and he was sure that he had inherited that along with his looks from his father.

(He was too much like his father and he agreed with his mother on that.)

One of his brilliant ideas, long ago, had been to show off this particular talent to his mother.

“Mum, happy birthday! A-And here, I have something for you.”

He offered her his childish sketch he had made all day, pouring all his heart and effort into the single piece of artwork.

She blinked, surprised, and gently took the paper from his hands then began to study the drawing.

“Thank you, Scorpius and is this…us at the beach?”

He nodded shyly.

“I did say I wanted us to go to the beach sometime and I can see that that’s us playing in the water,” She smiled fondly but then, she furrowed her brows. “But then who’s-“

“That’s Dad, of course!”

Wide eyed, she turned away from the drawing to see Scorpius grinning and innocently hopeful. She inspected the picture once again but the look of confusion was still present on her face.

“Why is he way over there at the beach not playing with us, Scorpius?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Because you say that he’s always watching over us even though he’s not here right?”

Her voice was caught in her throat, like one giant lump she couldn’t swallow.

“Since he’s not here, I made him there looking- uhm, _watching_ over us. See? It’s just like what you said.”

She didn’t cry or sob outright as if a woman sinking in grief, contrary to what she _should’ve_ done. Instead, she picked him up and swung him around, despite his growing weight and height, laughing, giggling together as they spun around the room.

She laughed through her tears and she kissed his cheeks, forehead and nose while he did the same to her. It was a little contest of who would be able to show more love at the end but they both had not been able to count their affections that day. Nobody was the winner.

(There was no need to count how much they love each other. _They couldn’t._ )

The both of them teased, joked, tickled until they were in tears- of glee, not sorrow- and before they knew it, dinner had come.

She kissed him one last time on his chubby cheek, smiled brighter than the sun and said, “Scorpius, this is… the best birthday present I have ever received. Thank you, my little dragon.”

And he was the happiest boy alive.  
\---

“You know, Dad’s always saying how much he thought your Dad was too much of a prat for anything but then he looks at you and _blimey_.”

He snorted then chuckled. ‘Prat’ may have been an understatement, according to his mother.

“Mum always says the same thing. She mutters under her breath of how much I act like him sometimes or well, most of the time.” He leaned in, while his friend did the same, “You know, Mum’s hair frizzes when she gets mad. All her curls goes everywhere. Makes her look wild when she’s especially angry. I swear Uncle Ron and Harry backs away when she does that. She mentioned that my Dad would toss all his snarkiness out of the window when she’s in _that_ particular mood.”

His friend nods in understanding and he replies, “My Mum may not be as bad as yours with the hair, still gets Uncle Ron and Dad in place though, but _Merlin_ ,” He was sure the fleeting look of horror had been real. “I try to not get her mad at all. I don’t get where James get all his guts, facing her like that. But, I guess Dad always intervenes before she rips his hair off…” Al trailed off, mind wandering as he sipped his pumpkin juice absentmindedly.

Scorpius came to a conclusion then.

“Is it just me or are dads ‘whipped’?”

Albus Potter swore that that was the day he almost choked on his juice.

Somewhere far away, beyond human contemplation, Draco Malfoy sneezed.  
\---

It was drizzling.

He didn’t care.

Then it was raining.

He really didn’t care.

Soon enough, his clothes were soaked. Several strands of his pale hair stuck to his equally pale face, just like how his shirt stubbornly clung to his torso. His every breathy exhale was almost visible in the air.

It was cold and it stung.

“Scorpius,”

His mother was with her favourite bold red umbrella.

“Let’s go. Inside.”

Her voice was comforting and warm. It feels like home.

(Because she is.)

He, ignoring his mother, continued to stand there with his head tilted towards the sky as it continued to shed salty tears unto the pavement. The colours above were damp, dark and gloomy, quite fitting for today’s events, he thought.

“I want them to suffer.”

There was tension in her body. He could see it in the corner of his eyes.

“I want to do it with my own hands. I don’t care if they’ll be dirty- _tainted_. Whatever you call it.”

His nails dug into his palms and his fury rages on like hell’s everlasting flames, despite the droplets of rain drenching, freezing him.

“I want revenge.”

But she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and the _kill, kill, kill_ dissipates a little.

“They will get the job done. Now come.”

 _Doesn’t she understand?_ He wanted to scream and shout and tear the world apart. _She doesn’t understand._

Then she snickered, giggled and it went on for a while that he thought it sounds so much more than displaced.

_Deranged?_

He didn’t immediately realize that his anger had been squashed dry by confusion.

“Oh, trust me.” Her eyes was glinting with something he had never seen before. “I do understand.”

It was contradicting, he knew, but he felt, right then and there, that she truly did.

Only mere seconds after his mental rant from her lack of understanding. Bloody brilliant, like always. She calmed him in ways that were incomprehensible to most. 

No words were exchanged between them as he obediently followed her into the house.  
\---

_He wanted another, a daughter, he announced. Quickly, he added that he doesn’t mind another boy._

_She doesn’t know he wants another her running around the house._

_Another year or two, maybe. Together, with their fingers intertwined, they had contemplated on the prospect of a second. All the while, she had been ecstatic because he_ likes _fatherhood. He was not as bad as he thought he was. But she never said so because it had always been fun to watch him fumble over the baby._

_He was awkward, like all other new fathers, but he was trying._

_Scorpius yawned and the grin on his face was like no other._

_For the umpteenth time, Hermione was happy that she had given Draco a chance._  
\---

“Uhm, h-hello Mr. Weasley.”

“Ron, for goodness sake, stop staring!”

“But ‘Mione! That’s-“

“My _son_ , Ronald.”

“He’s exactly like Malfoy!”

“Well, the father is Malfoy after all.”

Hesitantly, “…What does he take after you?”

“Attitude, mostly. A shy one, he is. Much like me when I was his age. And I doubt Draco was shy. A bit of a bookworm.”

“His hair is a bit curly too.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I like my hair.” He piped in.

“I like it too, little dragon.” She gave him a soft, pleased smile. “Want to have lunch with us, Ron?”

“Yeah, I guess I could.”

She dropped it into a whisper.

“Not all his attitude is from me though. Sometimes I think he’s all his father.”

He mouthed something to what may have seem to be _‘of course’_.  
\---

The stares unnerved him.

But the judgment and instant weariness in their gazes were worse.

Sometimes he hates his last name and his outward appearance.

Though, he could never hate his father (but he was annoyed at him more than once). It was even harder to when he heard of what his father had overcome- changing, staying and loving his mother. 

He respected the man and was proud of him.

(Very grateful too.)

Still, he never liked the looks that burned holes on the back of his head, constantly scrutinizing and waiting for him to become the idiotic bigots Malfoys were supposed to be.

But the Malfoys are not like the way they were in the past. He would prove it.

For him, for Mum, for Dad.

Their names would not be tarnished by people’s foolish assumptions.

(His father never used his mother for fixing the name of his family. _He believed in him._ )

Scorpius would never allow that. Ever.  
\---

All he could think of was that everyone, including his mother, would be watching him.

She was there, in the stands with several of the teachers, and so was his friends’ parents. 

It was a Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. The finals.

The cheers were thunderous and never ceasing, the supporters not wanting to lose to the other. It was deafening but encouraging.

“Ready for this, mate?”

“Not ever, Al.”

“Same. But I want to get this over with. The nerves are killing me.”

He smirked. “Let’s crush James’ overinflated ego. It’ll be fun to watch.”

“And see Lily’s murderous attempts on strangling him? Why not, oh Head Boy to-be?” There was a wide grin on his face, no doubt humoured from the thoughts of James’ public embarrassment. 

“Let’s make sure of it then, since the awe-inspiring Quidditch Captain commands it.”

“You better.”

Lily was a ferocious Keeper. She refused to let a single Quaffle get past her and whenever it did, she would snarl at him for being a wonderful Chaser.

Really, he was just doing his job.

His fellow Chasers, the Nott twins, were pleasantly aiding him in giving her a hard time and the three of them would grin at her cheekily which would leave her red in the face.

Her reactions were always entertaining. It was a silent agreement between the three of them.

The Gryffindor Chasers, however, weren’t slackers, especially Professor Longbottom’s seventh year son. 

Their Keeper, Zabini, would, in contrast to Lily’s anger, sigh in exasperation and disappointment when the Quaffle got through his defenses.

But Al’s encouraging pat on his shoulder, fortunately, made him all the more determined.

The Slytherin Beaters, though newly recruited, seemed to have been playing their whole lives and thoroughly enjoying the game, sporting mischievous grins. 

(Thankfully, the three Purebloods accepted Ashton, a half-blood, and Garnet, a Muggleborn, into the team without much fuss, just like himself and Albus. It was a curious but welcomed change in the attitude of the Pureblood families.)

In the end, the scores were 230-240, Slytherin to Gryffindor, when James and Albus sped around the pitch, zooming everywhere, hands outstretched.

Then, Albus tumbled to the ground.

There was a collective gasp.

“I caught it! I caught the Snitch!”

And the crowd roared.

They ran to their Captain, worried and ecstatic at the same time.

“I bloody told you, Al! We did it! Merlin, we _won_!” He couldn’t help but shout.

Albus could only grin in response, the Snitch gripped tightly in his hand as the Slytherins celebrated their victory.  
\---

“Ronald, Neville, I win.”

Begrudgingly, Ron handed the Galleons over to Hermione while Neville seemed amused.

“James, I trusted you! I lost the bet!”

Harry chuckled good-naturedly at the results.  
\---

His mother had embraced him in front of the Slytherins. 

It was fairly embarrassing but he felt at ease in her arms and ignored the snickers of his teammates.

She sighed when she released him. There was a strange twinkle in her eyes as she gave him a wide smile.

“I’m proud of you, dragon.” Looking at him from head to toe, she said, “Not so little anymore, however.”

He laughed.

“Now I’ll be the one to swing you around, Mum.”

“Maybe,” she smirked.

She was proposing a challenge. It was too painfully obvious.

“Oh?” In response of hers, he smirked. “I’ll prove it.”

He lifted her up and she gasped in surprise. As he swung her around, he bit his lip to contain his hilarity of it all but couldn’t when his mother could only stare at him in a mix of amazement and bewilderment. The scene was even gathering a crowd. 

“I told you so.”

She couldn’t stop staring even when he placed her feet back on the ground.

Then she burst into laughter.

“I-I lost once today, after all.”

He understood what she meant. A bet, no doubt. 

“I can’t believe we won. If it wasn’t for Al, we would’ve lost.”

“Yes, I suppose I have to thank Albus for it but,” She stepped closer to him and ruffled his hair affectionately, “you were impressive out there, Scorpius. I’m so proud of you.”

Nothing was quite like his mother’s praises. They made him felt like he was the best of the best. It was wonderful.

“Thanks, Mum.”

She nudged him on his side. “You deserved the praise, Scorpius. Now, maybe we could get to Albus? Everyone else must be there.”

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

He took her hand as he led her through the chattering masses of people, using his height to search for his best friend.

“Oh, and Scorpius dear?”

He never liked it when his Mum said ‘dear’ in an overly sweet tone. Like right then.

“Er, yes Mum?”

“Rose must be waiting for you too.”

Scorpius halted and spluttered, stuttered, stammered his reply. His cheeks and ears were a brilliant shade of red.

“B-B-But _how_?”

“Ronald doesn’t know,” He restrained himself from sagging in relief. “But almost everyone does. It was remarkably obvious.”

“Her father going to kill me when he finds out.” He groaned.

“Don’t worry, everyone who knows supports the both of you. I know I do.”

“He’s still going to kill me. He’s protective over her. _Too bloody protective._ ”

“Language.” She chided. “It’s all right. We’ll restrain him.”

“I hope so.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know so.” She winked.  
\---

Scorpius coughed.

He felt sick (well, he was). His throat was itchy, he was sweating profusely and it took effort to breathe. He would feel cold and hot at the same time. It would constantly be uncomfortable for him, no matter what his position was on the bed.

In summary, it was terrible.

“I told you not to play in the rain.”

He sneezed while his mother placed her palm on his burning forehead.

“But I like the rain.”

She sighed.

He didn’t say a word after. She gave him his medicine. Though bitter, he drank it quietly, not wanting to further upset his mother.

Maybe he should do what Uncle Harry said…

“Mum?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

She paused, blinked and subsequently turned to him.

“I love you too, Scorpius.” Then, she questioned, “Why did you say it?”

“Because Uncle Harry said that I have to say it whenever I can. So that I have no regrets.”

She answered him with a simple, low “Oh,” 

Her expression had disturbed him. It was certainly not happy and her eyes… Maybe she thought it wasn’t sincere?

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“But I really do love you. It’s not just because Uncle Harry said I have to.”

She was almost at loss for words.

“I-“ She sucked in a breath, “I know, Scorpius, I know. And I really do love you.”

“Okay.” 

She was almost at the door when he spoke again.

“Can I- Can I have a hug?” For some reason, he suddenly felt very alone.

He could barely see his mother nod and seconds later, his head was pressed against her chest, her arms around him.

She faintly smelt of apples. 

He liked apples.

“Thank you, Mum.” He mumbled.

“You’re welcome, Scorpius.”

He didn’t want her to let go. What he didn’t know was she didn’t as well.

“Goodnight, little dragon.”

“G’night, Mum.”

As Scorpius drifted into sleep, Hermione leaned against his bedroom door. Her heart was constricting in her chest and she became unreasonably exhausted.

“I love you, Scorpius. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Her whispers were frantic and inaudible even to her own ears. 

She didn’t realize there were more words spilling out of her mouth.

“I miss you, I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry.” 

Tears streamed down her face as she slid down to the floor, holding back her sobs. 

“Draco, Scorpius, I love you, I love you.”

That night, Scorpius dreamt of the wide blue sky and how his fingers had curled comfortably around his father’s and mother’s while they guessed and laughed at the shapes of the clouds passing by.


End file.
